L. found her dream dress in SLC over spring break + loved that it had little cap sleeves

So sweet {^ note adoring younger sister looking on in the background...}

Prom group {we were rushed and it was hard to get a shot where everyone looked good. Sorry, T (in pink)}

 D & L. They've known each other since 3rd grade + have been close friends ever since.

 On the red carpet walk

. . .

What a difference a week makes! When we scheduled L's procedure, the doctor reassured us she would be up and at 'em and at prom the next weekend.  I had my doubts but, sure enough, she was back at school on Tuesday, in her flute recital on Thursday, and at junior prom on Friday. Amazing what the body can do and heal from.

Our high school has a nice tradition of all the families gathering at the school for a red carpet procession/photo op of all of the junior prom couples, then the kids all board busses and head to the hotel for the dance. They all return for pick-up at 11:30, safe and (most of them) sound. Lauren had a wonderful evening. Now her group of friends has a whole progressive activity evening planned tonight: fun, a dinner, an outdoor movie in our yard. The girls have taken over all the planning. Is that a thing now?

Today was Lauren's pre-op day, filled with blood tests + medical interviews + an echocardiogram + waiting. (More on that in a bit.) If you have to be in a succession of waiting rooms, you could do worse than bringing along the Letters of EB White. The copy I have is satisfyingly tattered, a book that my parents gave to great-Grandma Brockbank in 1977 (the inscription is on the inside cover) and then later, meandering down through the line, it was given to me.

I'll admit I'm harboring a little long-held literary crush on Elwyn Brooks White. I can’t get enough of his New England wit and quick humor, his ease with sentiment and words. I knew he could write well, of course, but this open window to his personal friendships reveals much more of his warm soul and side glancing winks.

Back just two weeks after marrying his bride, Katherine, he sent her this poem*:

The spider, dropping down from twig,
Unwinds a thread of his devising; 
A thin, premeditated rig
To use in rising. 

And all the journey down through space, 
In cool descent, and loyal-hearted, 
He builds a ladder to the place
From which he started. 

Thus I, gone forth, as spiders do, 
In spider's web a truth discerning, 
Attach one silken strand to you
For my returning.

If you were sitting here at my kitchen table, I would tell you a long story about high school crushes, and a golden boy that everyone wanted to be like and liked by, and a heart-broken small town struggling with some kind of virus: its third youth suicide this year.  I would show you the long text conversations with my daughter at school--the I can't handle this, the I just talked to him recently, I sat next to him in math, the why would he do this.  We would sigh together, look out the window at the blossoming world and breathe in the scent of lilacs.

He wasn't mine to mourn but I mourn--for the possibilities he carried away with him and for the lost innocence of invincibility, that adolescent magical thinking. I keep thinking of the Housman poem--remember?

The time you won your town the race /We chaired you through the market-place; /Man and boy stood cheering by, /And home we brought you shoulder-high...

Now you will not swell the rout /Of lads that wore their honours out, /Runners whom renown outran /And the name died before the man...

And round that early-laurelled head /Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead, /And find unwithered on its curls /The garland briefer than a girl's.

You would hear the lump in my throat as I told you about this same brave daughter who just weeks ago came into our room late at night and threw a lifeline to another friend facing similar challenges and stayed on the phone, G's hand resting on her back, until help arrived and hope was found. It's hard not to wonder What's going on here? and its close cousin What can I do?

It's hard to get into too many details here and it's really not mine to tell. Let's just say:

Life is fragile. 

You never know who is carrying around a heavy ache.

But I can show you the carving my dad sent us, an icon of my childhood walls made by his hands, that I opened yesterday:

Amen.

Hug someone extra tightly today.

I've been in a bit of an annoying funk lately where my bear-like instincts are trying to dictate that I hibernate and growl a lot. Really.  I can't seem to get enough sleep and I feel cumbersome and effortful, like I'm trudging through honey. Normally I could get behind the follow your instincts approach but, no, following them right now would not be advisable. 

Instead it's time to pull out the Pollyanna/Music Man philosophy and decide to think happy.  To prime the happiness pump (which, after all takes energy before the pay-off) by stretching and exercising, praying and writing.

To find glittery bits of joy + pick them up + put them in my pocket: doing the newspaper crossword and sudoku every day. G rubbing my feet while we sit on the sofa. Walking with Louie, who happily trots ahead and loves life even when at the end of a leash. Eating fresh pineapple. Hot water and great smelling shampoo. Crossing things off of my lists. Bear hugs. Inside jokes. "I love you."

To tell myself "this is going to be a really great week!" and be willing to believe it, even if it means faking it for a while.   And it really is going to be a great week, with nice stretches of time today and tomorrow to get some things done. And I am heading to Utah on Thursday to speak on a panel at BYU for a symposium for students about education/career options and family/school/work balance. (I think I'm the representative for the going-back-to-grad-school-as-a-mom contingent.) Then I get to hang out with my parents for the weekend.

 Any other members of the hibernating bear brigade out there?  How do you pull out of a funk?

Just so you know, we will not be moving to Australia.

Probably you are not either?

We have been keeping this exciting possibility (Australia relocation) under our hats since late July, when G was told that he was one of a few attorneys in his company being considered to head up legal for the Australian branch of the company.  We didn't tell the kids (why get them all excited/nervous until we know for sure?), we didn't tell family (same reason), or local friends (it's so hard to be straddling the line between being here and leaving).  I did tell a couple of people who could know from afar and give me someplace to bubble up our news when I felt like I'd overflow (thanks, gals).

But the two of us, G and I, have talked about it a lot over the last months.  Most plans began with "If we're in Australia...." or "If we're still here..."  I admit, I looked into real estate and schools and church congregations.  I knew it wasn't a certainty but I did enjoy thinking about the possibility of starting all over in a faraway country (and continent!).  Unless I was worrying about going--moving the kids to a new country and new set of friends, distance from loved ones, missing our wonderful town.

Along the way, Australia came up in the oddest places. Almost every day someone mentioned it to me: they had lived there, were from there, wanted to go there. Was it a sign?!! 

No. We found out that someone else is going. Which is fine, really. We'll buy curtains finally and stay here longer. Now we know which set of advantages + blessings we keep. Plus I'm relieved for Lauren, who would have spent her junior and senior year there (is there a more impossible time to move?).

The thing is, I kind of like adventure and the road less traveled. Now I'm still just doing what I was doing before and where's the fun in that? (I know, I really do have a good situation here and it's a happy life but compared to Australia? Meh.)  It was fun carrying around this little nugget of a secret.

So long, Australia.  I had great hopes for us.

Also in other news: I am not pregnant. But for a while there (at least in my active imagination), I was raising a little caboose baby (12 to 17 years younger than the other kids) in Australia!

Why is hard to let go of something you never had?  And be relieved at the same time?

. . .

Best of 09 day 4: Best book. Fiction:  The Book Thief, a book I have been meaning to read for at least 2 years. I had started no less than 5 times before and never gotten past the first chapter.  Finally I did it this fall and loved it. I finished it on a Saturday afternoon on my bed. G came in as I was weeping profusely at the end and kissed me on the forehead.   Non fiction: Mindset.  I love Carol Dweck and her research. This is her general nonfiction book about her work, looking into how our mindsets (fixed traits or growth) affect effort and achievement.